


She Drinks Damnation

by eydemons



Category: Assassin's Creed
Genre: Alternate Universe - Gender Changes, Bisexual Female Character, F/F, F/M, everyone is a lil gay, fem!Edward Kenway
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-12-29
Updated: 2015-12-29
Packaged: 2018-05-03 23:26:13
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 3
Words: 6,445
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5311079
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/eydemons/pseuds/eydemons
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Alright, lads. I'll give you Blackbeard's honest opinion. You ask me, "Can this new captain promise you a life of prizes, plunder, and adventure?" Aye. Amongst all the gentlemen of fortune sailing these West Indies, a woman, devil curse me, ranks amongst the most clever. / So if it's fortune and adventure you seek, then Captain Elizabeth Kenway's your woman. / AU Fem!Edward.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

Elizabeth was only ten years old when her family moved from Swansea, Wales to the outskirts of a village called Hatherton, seven miles outside Britsol. The accent felt like the only they had gotten to keep, at the time. Elizabeth became comfortable being marked out as different.

_"A sheep farmer," her father would say, "not one of the sheep."_

A weakly made metaphor, considering her father ran a smallholding keeping sheep. It was what he was good at. Being an only child, meant no brothers to free him the worst aspect of the business; making trips into town with the merchandise, haggling with merchants and traders, bargaining, cutting deals. The work, when Elizabeth came of age, fell to her.

They weren't an incredibly well off family, and they didn't have the money to hire someone to do this for them. Elizabeth, in trousers and her hair cut short, would travel seven miles into town, and trade as an equal. And her father was all too glad to let her do it.

It was in the summer when Elizabeth really came into her own. The work load was lighter, which meant more time to frequent local taverns. She quickly became a familiar sight, in a long buttoned-up waistcoat, knee breeches, white stockings, short boyish hair, she was easily identifiable. 

It was then she discovered the sight; eagle vision, and she knew she was different. It was then she knew she didn't want to be a sheep farmer all her life. The idea of spending the rest of her life in the outskirts of Bristol as a sheep farmer, working for her father, be forced into marrying a local man twice her age, introducing her sons to the same life she had led, like their grandfather had.

Her life was laid out for her and it was _terrifying._

It seemed the only way she wasn't terrified was when she was drunk. She hated her life less, hated her job. Blotting out dashed dreams with booze was easier. A resentment began to grow at the way her life was turning out - or, worse, actually had turned out.

It was during this time, this time of hating her life, her job, and more than happily drowning her woes in alcohol, that she had met Christopher Scott.

* * *

Three men, three times her age, whose names she never bothered to learn, invited her to drink with them. At seventeen, free booze was all but welcomed. She was already slightly tipsy, when she'd accepted their request. They'd grin, she'd drink, they'd shout for more, pleased to see her wobble on her stool. Repeat several times, until a look passed between them, a looked that clearly said to anyone watching; _The Job Is Done._

Two of the men stood, and began to 'escort' her to the door. "You've had too much to drink, my lovely, let's get you home, shall we?"

In her sober mind, Elizabeth would not of accepted anything these men had offered her, but nothing had looked better to her than more alcohol, and now, the warmth of her home and the softness of her bed. Her mind couldn't quite piece together what she knew was happening.

A tavern crowded with bastards, everyone there knew what was happening, yet no one was partial to help. She was an small woman, 5 foot 6 inches and underweight at 7 stone, money was always tight, so food was sparse. Another reason to hate her life. Pitying grimaces could be seen across the tavern, yet every single person turned away, pretending not to notice.

The three men intended to give her a ride in their cart, under the premise of bringing her home, and Elizabeth could barely do anything else but accept. Outside, the streets were empty. Just Elizabeth and the three men, no one else in sight. A perfect situation for the three. It was when they were seemingly man-handling her into the cart when a man rode up alone on horseback. Elizabeth caught a glimpse of him in the distance, _Come on then,_ she thought, even drunk, knowing the situation, _Don't hang about._

Her only chance of salvation, the lone rider was approaching, but she was dizzy, and prayed to God she wasn't seeing things. The last thing she thought before the door on the cart was suddenly slammed shut, and she got a clear look at the man on the horse, was that he was beautiful.

"Hey. You three men," the lone rider's voice was muffled through the door, but heavy with an English accent. He even sounded beautiful. "Stop what you're doing right now." They seemed to do as he asked, "What is going on here?"

One of the men rambled out a reply, "Oh, sir, begging your pardon, but this is a young friend of ours who has had too much to drink."

The man's voice came darker, "She is most certainly not your young friend, she is a maidservant," he lied, Elizabeth felt as shocked as a drunk person could, who was this man that he defended young girls, who lied for them? "And if I don't get her back home before my mother discovers she's absconded then she will be an unemployed maidservant."

"I know you men," he said after a beat, "Tom, Seth, Julian. I think I understand exactly what has been going on here. You three work for my father, do you not? I could have you fired; your reputations ruined, do you want that?"

His threats seemed to work, for the door suddenly opened, and the bright sunlight was hard to blink through. She was helped out by a surprisingly gentle hand, and she stood on wobbly legs, next to the horse that matched her in height.

"Now you will be on your way, and I'll try to forget this ever happened."

With much bowing and scraping, the men clambered aboard their cart and were soon gone. The man dismounted his horse, while Elizabeth slowly sunk down against the wall of the tavern. He knelt down to speak, and his voice changed, softly spoken now. "My name is Christopher Scott. My family lives on Hawkins Lane in Bristol; let me take you back there. Are you hurt?"

Managing a small grin, Elizabeth sat up, "I cannot." she said, accent heavy, words slurred. "I have work to do."

The man stood, frowning. "I see. And did I assess the situation correctly?"

"You did."

"Then please. Let me at least bring you home. Though, I do live quite close." he seemed to realise how his words sounded to someone just recently offered the exact same thing, but meant with ill intent. "I mean you no harm, Miss..."

This seemed to be an invitation for a name to be given, "Elizabeth." she offered, slowly standing. She must've looked a mess, for with every move she made his hands seemed to mirror her, ready to catch her if she were to fall. Finally, she wobbled, her legs giving out and his hand caught her arm.

"I'm sorry these are the circumstances for which we must meet, Elizabeth." he was very gentle in the way he touched her, his hand just ghosting over her skin.

 _He was an angel_ , she decided then, as he helped her mount the horse.

* * *

That night as she sat beneath the thatch of the cottage, thoughts were not of escaping the future.

That night she thought of Christopher.

Christopher Scott of Hawkins Lane.

 

 

* * *

 


	2. Chapter 2

Leaving Bristol should've been easier. It's all she ever wanted. To leave. Live a different life. A life she could be happy living. It was her parents, she'd thought would be the hardest part. People like her parents didn't live long. She didn't doubt they'd be gone within a few years, she figured saying goodbye would make things harder. Then Christopher came into her life. Loved her, despite his father's wishes for him to marry a woman other than a sheep keeper's daughter. But he loved her, despite her unladylike like hair and her foul mouth.

She didn't deserve him. Every time they were together, she'd look into his eyes and know he wasn't meant for her. He needed someone more stable, someone who could settle, to grow old with.

It was a cold winter night when he asked if she'd marry him, told her that he'd gone to her father, and asked for his blessing.

He was too good for her. _Too kind._

She lied and told him yes, then, in the middle of the night, packed her things, and left Bristol behind. Leaving nothing but a note, telling him she loved him, that she was sorry.

 

* * *

 _June of 1715_ , nearly two years later, Elizabeth's made her way onto a privateer ship, under the name guise of Edward Kenway. An experienced fighter, knows his way around a ship, quickest climber aboard. She blends in, and it's almost effortless. Past worries leave her in place of rum and gun powder. No one cares what you do, as long as you do it well, in this line of work. 

They're in the midst of a storm, when a Man O' War ambushes them. Schooners and cargo ships fire at them what they have, but it's the Man O' War that does the damage. "Hold fast!" the Captain yells when they're fired upon. Lightning flashes every which way, illuminating the ship as it pulls up too near for comfort. The final flash perfectly silhouettes a daunting figure. A figure of a woman. Most have hardly and time to notice. 

"Our Helmsman's dead! Someone take the wheel!" the Captain yells down from the quarterdeck. "Kenway! Take the bloody wheel!" 

It's almost second nature, taking over for a dead man. The ship is already in bad condition because of the storm.

Elizabeth knows this.

The Captain knows this.

The crew knows this.

She's even sure the Man o' War that's now ramming into their starboard side knows this.

But with a few shots from the broadside cannons, and a strike of lightning, the Man o' War is incapacitated.

"The magazine!" a crew member yells, as Elizabeth comes down onto the deck to look at the sinking ship not 10 yards away. "It's going up!"

And it is. The thing explodes, killing the man standing nearby. Those standing near rush to help when a shake from the ship causing them to stumble backward. "Douse the flames!" the Captain yells, pushing Elizabeth and the other men forward. "Get in there you mongrel!" he curses when a man hesitates, like he isn't cowarding himself. Elizabeth hesitates long enough to see the daunting figure from before jump down onto the Captain, killing him with a blade to the back of the neck.

Elizabeth turns around, ready for a fight. But the first thing she notices about this person, is how small they are. A woman. Elizabeth barely has time to appreciate this turn of event when she is thrown overboard.

* * *

 

She wakes up with lungs full of water, and the swim to the surface is hard. Getting to shore feels like the most she's ever pushed herself. She's weak, she lungs are still throbbing and gasping for air makes it hard to swim. Getting to shore, she assumes it's what its like to climb a mountain and finally reach the top. Like achieving something thought impossible.

The sloshing of the water next to her is alarming, to say the least. She assumed, by the bodies she swam past on the way to shore, she was the only survivor. Who she's met with, she immediately wishes she was. The strangely dressed woman who killed her captain. She watches as the woman as she drags herself onto the beach with a groan.

"Was it good for you as well?" she laughs, laying flat on her back in the sand.

"Havana..." the woman breaths, struggling to speak, heaving in breaths. "I must get to Havana."

"Well I'll just build us another ship, will I?" She says, and the woman huffs air out of her nose angrily.

"I can pay you. Isn't that the sound you pirates like best? One hundred escudos."

Elizabeth sits up, having noticed a bottle wash ashore next to her. She lifts it up to her mouth and when nothing comes out she throws it back into the ocean. "Keep talking." she says, and she's done with being condescending. This woman killed her Captain, she hasn't forgotten.

"Will you or won't you!"

Elizabeth stands up and walks in circles around the suffering woman. "You don't have that gold on you now, do you?" she asks, reaching down to search her, "Gold, y'know, it means a lot, but where'm I gon' get the supplies?" she asks, but is sent falling back when the woman pulls out her gun and stands up across from her. She sticks her hand in front of her face, not wanting this woman to be the one to kill her. She does not want to die here.

"Bloody fucking pirates." the woman spits, and pulls the trigger. Elizabeth squeezes her eyes shut, expecting the sound of a gunshot to be the last thing she ever hears. But it's not. The gun clicks several more times, before the woman throws the gun onto the beach and runs off into the island.

Elizabeth stands up with a laugh, "I'm on to you Sneaksby!" her legs are sore and she staggers as she stands, but chases after the woman none the less.

The chase is relentless and filled with the two women yelling after each other to slow down or "if you keep following me I will kill you,". So Elizabeth continues to give chase only until they've ran around the whole of the island, and the woman stops, turns around, yells at her to "keep her distance," before shooting.

Elizabeth decides that she's no longer chasing this woman to catch up to her, but to kill her.

Elizabeth continues to give chase through the trees, through the swamp, and down a hill. They reach an open area when the woman spins around, weapon drawn, Elizabeth retaliates with her own two swords and it's two slashes before the woman drops to her knees, clutching her chest, and falls down dead.

The victor of the fight drags the looser back against a rock, where she loots the body. Immediately, she finds a letter addressed to a Señorita Darcy Walpole, small double folded maps, and a strange clear cube found inside a small pouch.

The letter reads,

_Señorita Darcy Walpole,_

_I accept your most generous offer, and await your arrival with eagerness._  
_If you truly possess the information we desire, we have the means to_  
_reward you handsomely. Though I will not know your face by sight,_  
_I believe I can recognize the costume made infamous by your secret order._  
_Therefore, come to Havana in haste. And trust that you shall be welcomed_  
_as an equal._

_Su más humilde servidor,_

_Governor Laureano Torres y Ayala._

With a snort Elizabeth places the letter aside, and proceeds to remove the costume from the now dead woman. It takes nearly forever to figure out how to put back on, but ten minutes of struggling with where the straps should go, Elizabeth immediately regrets ever putting it on. It's at least 5 pounds of extra weight put on her, in the hot Caribbean heat. She shakes it off, grabs the letter, inspects the wrist blades that came with the outfit and throws them in the bushes.

* * *

It's nearly been an hour since she was thrown from the ship when Elizabeth meets and rescues Stede Bonnet, gives him a false name, and invites herself onto his merchant vessel. It's all in well meaning as she pilots the ship for him, impressively steers it out of the twist and turning bay, and sails to their mutual location, Havana.

"You're a natural sailor Darcy." Stede Bonnet comments, walking awkwardly around her. "How is a woman like yourself is better than most men I've met?"

Elizabeth laughs, "A story for another day, my friend." she sighs, "I did a decent trick at the helm some time ago."

"As a privateer?" He asks excitedly, reminding her of a child. She doesn't answer, letting him think what he'd like. "Dash my buttons! Your life seems a grand one, if I may say. So full of adventure! How marvelous." he comments, incredulous to the threat of sailing.

Elizabeth watches as he places his hands on the port side of the ship's edge, and looks off almost dreamily into the distance. "I've seen my fair share of strangeness, aye."

* * *

Elizabeth has scars.

The external kind and the internal kind. Just the mere thought of Bristol and the pain it accompanies makes her heart ache. The thought of her mother, father, Christopher.

Too many scars for one person, let alone a woman. There are scars on her legs, her face, hands, back, and arms. Though mostly covered by self done tattoos, she isn't ashamed of them, she never has been. And why should she? Each and every one of them has a story, a story she's never afraid to tell. Scars are considered souvenirs, trophies, signs a few scratches along your body wouldn't stop you. They would definitely never stop Elizabeth. Not for a long time.

So when Bonnet gestures to her face with his index finger and points at the scar running from her cheek bone to her nose. She grins and doesn't answer, leaving it up to his imagination. Sometimes that was better, having someone think of the grand possibilities for a women to get a scar like that, when in truth, she had never been good at riding horses back in Bristol. Bonnet turns, unsatisfied.

It's an hour before they reach the docks of Havana, she tells Bonnet of her "secret" meeting with the governor, he tells her of his wife and children back home and when they square up against the docks, immediately Bonnet leans over the edge of the star board side and waves to the people on land. "Ah, lively Havana! I've been here once before. It was a truly awe-full pleasure."

"See someone you know?" Elizabeth asks, watching him with an eyebrow raised.

"No, no, no. Just putting on a friendly face. I shouldn't want to be mistaken for a pirate again."

Elizabeth replies with an unladylike snort, "Right. Flash rogue like yourself must be cautious." she's condescending as she hangs an arm around one of the pegs of the wheel. Bonnet doesn't acknowledge her, and continues to walk down the boat, waving to the people who aren't waving back.

Elizabeth makes him buy her a new sword, telling him to be a gentlemen and that she "saved his skin," and with an awkward unsure shakes of his head he gives her 1000 reales. She buys the sword for 800 and keeps the 200, "That'll do for me. How do you fair?" she asks, replacing her old swords with the new.

"I only had enough for a small knife, sadly. Still, it'll do in a pinch." Bonnet looks unsure up at her while he places his small knife in the inside pocket of his coat. Elizabeth smiles a crooked grin with a small nod, and gesture she hopes he'll pick up as thanks. "Have you ever been to this lively city before?"

She shakes her head, "Can't say that I have, no. I'm sure I'll discover her secrets in no time."

"Yes, quite." Bonnet comments, returning to his ship to pick up a box of sugar. "So is this where we part ways I assume, Miss Darcy. It's b-"

"Hey, ah, Bonnet," she cuts in almost regrettably, leaning up against a stack of crates. "The name's Elizabeth, in truth. Darcy's only a handle."

"Ah," he points at her excitedly, "A secret name for your secret meeting with the Governor!"

Elizabeth nods, pushing off from the crates, "Right. The Governor." she nods at Bonnet, tugs up her hood, and saunters off.

* * *

 Elizabeth is arrogant. She's a naturally arrogant person. She knows she's good at what she does. Being a pirate is all she really knows anymore. She hasn't quite decided what she enjoys more, people liking her, or being frightened of her.

Her confidence and thirst for adventure i _s_ what makes her a good pirate.

And she knows she's a good pirate.

Even her mates back in Nassau think she's a good pirate. Despite her gender, they treat her as an equal.

 _"If this place is about the equality of all men, and not bendin' at the knee to some shit pot King, what about women? What's the point of this damned place if I've got to bend at the knee to the likes of men?"_  she had cussed. before Ed Thatch grabbed hold of her shoulder and announced her an equal among the likes of Benjamin Hornigold and James Kidd. Elizabeth proved herself quickly, and it wasn't hard.

She was a  _pirate._

 _Men_  weren't going to stop her.

Especially not this Governor and the two men who questioned her and put a gun in her hands and convinced her to do a shooting challenge while they were waiting on the Governor.

Elizabeth  _did not_  like these men.

She did not like them when Julien du Casse gave her wrist blades, telling they were "souvenirs". She did not like them when they made her demonstrate talents they assumed she learned from some "order".

Woodes Rogers and Julien du Casse tell her Nassau is their next target, she nearly kills them both right there. She meets the Governor, and she doesn't like him either. She likes him for his money, so she gives them the cube that accompanied the letter and the maps found on the real Darcy Walpole. He speaks of an observatory they could use to spy on their enemies, to be one step ahead of them.

She hated them when they were looking over a map and told her to "take a seat". She enjoys robbing them of their pocket money after that. Woodes Rogers, Julien du Casse, and Laureano Torres were men who thought themselves better than everyone else, and any man like that she did not like. She would get the reward promised and hopefully disappear.

Darcy Walpole would disappear.

_Elizabeth Kenway would not._

* * *

Elizabeth was a smart woman. She was literate, she was street smart, and knew how to read people.

Elizabeth was smart. But not smart enough to know that the people she was currently associating with were the enemies of one of her very close friends. Something she'd feel immensely guilty for in the future. So when she meets Bartholomew Roberts, a man they call the Sage, on the docks, she's not smart enough to realize this man is not someone to be messed with. His eyes are gold and when he makes eye contact with her he scowls, resists against his restraints and spits at her feet.

The three men show interest in interrogating this man, and she doesn't say a word. If helping to escort this "Sage" to prison brought her closer to the money she was promised, she didn't care what the hell he was called. So when they're attacked by men and women in outfits similar to the one she wears, she barely hesitates. She's a pirate. She doesn't care who the people she kills are.

The Sage is freed of his restraints by one of their attackers and attempts to escape, but she's faster than him, and when she caught up, tackled him, and brought him back to the Governor, he called her a "lap dog" and she pushed him towards a guard and told him to shut his mouth.

Woodes Rogers and Julien du Casse depart shortly after. Woodes Rogers leaves regrettably, telling the Governor he must sail for England and Julien du Casse helps escort their prisoner to his prison. The Governor acknowledges her for the first time since they met, calling her "Ms. Darcy Walpole" gives her the money she'd been waiting for. He tells her to be present at the interrogation of Bartholomew Roberts tomorrow at noon, "Yes, sir." is her given reply, as he walks past her. She scowls at the back of his head as she weighs the pouch of money in her hands.

* * *

Elizabeth walks nearly all the way across the city. She almost feels like it's enough to cool her down, but at the mere thought of the _**t**_ ** _wllt din_  **of a old man she slams the pouch down on a table across from Stede Bonnet.

"God sink me for this pittance. One thousand reales for those maps. That's what? A hundred pounds at the most?" her voice is angry, and she feels like ranting as Bonnet pours her a drink, his eyes wide, already a little tipsy from the strong rum. "How am I supposed to become rich in these times with a miser like Torres running the world?" she sits back in her seat and returns the pouch of money to her belt.

"You're a very ... beautiful woman...." Bonnet says slowly, his words slurring.

Elizabeth ignores this, and picks up her drink, "You know what I'm thinking? I'd like to see this observatory the governor was going on about. He said it were like a device that could follow people around and show where they were." she explains, taking a sip.

"A ludicrous idea! Imagine my wife with such an advantage over me." Bonnet laughs, a displaced sound in the seriousness she currently feels.

"Well, imagine what a thing like that would be worth." Bonnet shrugs and takes another sip of his drink as Elizabeth stand up, "Sell that to the right person and I'd be the richest pirate-" she looks back at him in her ramblings to find he hasn't heard what she said as he chugs the rest of his drink, "in the West Indies."

She turns her back to him, "I'll catch you up, Bonnet. There's a Sage in that house I must speak to. In private." he gives her a small wave of his hand, still distracted by his drink, and when he sees she hasn't drank hers, he makes a grab for it.


	3. Chapter 3

**Havana 1715**

Elizabeth knows how dangerous being a woman can be. She's experienced it first-hand. But when she dresses as a man, no one bothers her. No one whistles as she walks by. She likes to feel equal. She knows she deserves to feel equal without tying her hair back and wrapping her chest. She is smart enough to know her ideas are far fetched. She has a fire inside her that demands people to treat her right. And those who know her do.

The men that patrol and guard the streets of Havana definitely would find suspicious a woman dressed in an outfit of a Creed she doesn't deserve now to be a part of. Elizabeth knows she'd be noticed.

The one-sided conversation she planned on having with the Sage is delayed another ten minutes.

She hopes he doesn't mind.

The uniform smells like all men smell. Like sweat and rum. She hadn't expected it on a guard whose job was to patrol the rooftops, his uniformed stripped body now making arrangements for prolonged stay in a garden conveniently grown just under his post.

The uniform does it's job. Easily, and with calm and purposeful steps, Elizabeth enters the unlocked jail cell.

_Unlocked._

The sage is missing.

Bodies of guards litter the floor in a perfect half moon shape.

Elizabeth curses.

Some people just can't wait ten minutes.

She makes a disappointed sound in the back of her throat and turns to leave, but barely makes a step when fist meets jaw.

Elizabeth is thrown to the floor just by the sheer impact. She feels uneasy as she kneels on the floor, clutching her bruising jaw. She's snapped back into reality when the back of a hand hits the back of her head, knocking the hat onto the floor, revealing her unwashed blonde hair.

"What is your true name?" the person asks, the man is Spanish and his voice familiar. She knows it's Torres before she even looks up. She knows it's Torres when guards dressed in yellow circle around her. Knows it's Torres by the sight of Julien du Casse looking down on her from behind him.

Elizabeth spits blood out onto the floor, "It's.. ah... Captain Pissoff." she's proud of that one when the brutish guard in black steps forward in unison with du Casse, an universal symbol for "shut the hell up." Torres only has to hold out both his hands to force both the men back to their places behind him.

" _ **Rien mais une sale pute,**_ " she's made du Casse angry and already she's felt as though she's winning. Or she would, if she wasn't the one on the floor of a jail cell.

Elizabeth doesn't understand the foreign words, and all together ignores him, checking for bleeding on her split lip with her index finger.

"Where is the Sage?" asks Torres, "did you set him free?"

Elizabeth readjusts her position on the floor, moving her legs underneath her, allowing her to look directly up at Torres, and not at his feet. "I had nothing to do with that," she shrugs, "much as I wish I had."

"Take her to the ports. Send her to Sevilla with the treasure fleet." with a wave of his hand Governor Torres' men do just that.

_Like dogs obeying their master._

Julien du Casse picks her up from under her left arm, while the guard in black picks her up by her right.

She's forced to walk past Torres as she's pulled from the prison cell and she doesn't understand, "Wait, now! I delivered your treasure, didn't I?" her voice loud, angry as she struggles against the two men, du Casse elbows her hard in the stomach forcing the air out of her lungs, and knocking her into Torres' brute of a guard. He pushes her back, and she slumps her head down to her chest.

"You did, yes. But you robbed us of Darcy Walpole." and with that, the gloved fist meets her face for the second time and all goes black.

* * *

Elizabeth knows how dangerous being a woman can be, so when she wakes up on the floor of a dark place, in what she realizes is a cage, she immediately expects the worst. It doesn't take long for her to realize she's on a ship.

She can tell by the way the foot steps above deck sound and the way the ship rocks and lurches from side to side. The rock of the waves have never made her want to vomit more.

A ship meant to take her to Seville. To Spain.

Elizabeth sits up at the realization. She's angry now. How important to Torres was Darcy Walpole that he had to send her to Spain? She delivered his fucking maps and he sends her on a five plus month journey to a whole other continent.

It's then that she decides that she'll probably to be the one to kill that man if she ever sees him again. It calms her slightly. But not enough. Elizabeth stands up and it's then that she realizes she was being watched.

A black man sits, his legs out stretched, in the corner, his eyes tired as he makes eye contact with her. She grasps one of the bars that make up the cage and narrows her eyes at the man, "You been here long?" she asks and the dryness of her throat surprises her.

"'Bout as long as you," is the man's curt reply.

"How long's that?" she raises her eyebrows, watching as the man sits up slightly, his joints popping, suggesting he'd been sitting like that a good while.

"Nearly a day." he says, standing slowly, not taking his eyes off her. Elizabeth turns around completely to face him, confused now.

She huffs out a breath. A day. She wouldn't believe it if it wasn't for the rumble in her stomach. "You're certain?" she asks.

"Been awake ever since they brought me here," he explains, coming to stand next to her, both arms hanging loosely over the bars, he nods once, "I'm certain."

"Jaysus," Elizabeth mumbles, combing fingers through her tangled hair. "Elizabeth." she says after a moment, introducing herself.

"Adéwalé."

"Have a plan, Adéwalé?"

Adéwalé looks down at her, his eyebrows furrowed, "Several," he says with a shrug. "All were lost when the storm hit and this vessel was the only survivor."

" _ **Cachu**_ ," she curses, "This was a treasure fleet, aye?"

Adéwalé nods, "Many prisoners aboard this ship," he explains, "They're bein' held on deck."

Elizabeth huffs, scratching the back of her neck. "I can't go to Spain." she says bluntly, eyes narrowing as she looks around the cell.

"Spain?" the man behind her asks, and he sounds confused. "We are not going to Spain." 

"What-?"

Adéwalé cuts her off. " _We_ are not going to Spain," he begins and Elizabeth raises an eyebrow at him. "at least, not any more. The storm was enough to have such a voyage cut off." he explains. "They mean to make an example of us in Nassau." 

"'Make an example'," she repeats to herself, "They mean to hang us in a town full o' pirates." she scoffs, rubbing her hands together. 

"It's as good a place to die as any." Adéwalé remarks, and her head snaps up at him almost immediately.

"You mean to roll over so easy?" her voice is loud, and the glare Adéwalé gives her nearly makes her shrink back.

Adéwalé makes to retaliate, but is cut off when the hatch to the deck of the ship swings down and an intimidating looking man comes down the stairs, his voice is heavily accented, but his English is clear. He continues to approach them until he's nearly face-to-face with Elizabeth, separated only by the bars of the cell. "You two ever give any thought into shutting the hell up?" he asks, and his voice rises with every word, but remains stoic, almost calm.

"You ever give any thought into not being so fuckin' ugly?" Elizabeth asks, watching as the man's eyes widen in anger, as he huffs a breath out of his nose. 

"Listen here, girl-ie," he grumbles, swearing to himself as he reaches into his coat pocket. "I should have you thrown over board," he spits out, finding the key in the last pocket of his coat he checks. "But that would be no fun," he grins at her,  and she pulls herself away at the sight of his teeth, as the sound of the metal key in the lock rings out in her ears. Elizabeth smiles inwardly, as the door swings open with a loud creak. 

Backing up to the middle of the room, she's followed back by the guard. "C'mon, girl, you an' I can have some fun, eh?" the man reaches her, and makes to grab her, but his legs are swept out from under him and he hits the floor with a loud thump. His nose makes a disturbing crunch when his face meets the floor. Elizabeth grabs the hair on the back of his head and forcefully smacks his face down again, knocking him out, most likely breaking his nose even further.

She looks up at Adéwalé with a smirk, "One way to do it, eh?" she laughs, grabbing the key from the unconscious guard.

Adéwalé nods, and he almost looks impressed. "You do this kinda stuff often?" he asks, his voice humorous as the exits the cell, stretching as he goes. Elizabeth throws the key to him as she walks out the door, she laughs quietly to herself.

"Only when I have to." 

"Which is often?" he asks.

She doesn't answer, feeling she doesn't have to as she watches as he locks the unconscious guard in the cell they previously occupied. She saunters forward, only to be pulled back by Adéwalé, and pushed to her right to a slight protrusion in the wall. The sound that emits from the back of her throat is one of surprise, and she angrily furrows her eyebrows at the man across from her, hiding behind the protrusion on the wall across from her. He gestures with to finger to the guards who have come down to check on them, mumbling about how their comrade is always slacking off. 

The men walk right past their make shift hiding spots when they notice the unconscious man in the cell once occupied by the two pirates. Adéwalé gestures with a finger to his lips to wait, and Elizabeth does. Only until the men have swung back open the cell door and lent down to investigate. Elizabeth stalks up behind them, Adéwalé close behind, their footsteps masked by the sound of water hitting the ship. 

Elizabeth waits for Adéwalé to give her a nod, before grabbing the man towards her and, nearly with all her strength, strangles the struggling man. When the man drops she kicks him once in the leg and leaves the prison cell once and for all, they lock it behind them for safe measure.

They don't waste any time. Almost like clock work, Elizabeth will whistle to one guard, kill him, while Adéwalé does the same. This repeats until they reach their respective gear, which was being held, possibly, at the farthest distance away from them. Elizabeth, upon realization that the clothes she'd stolen from Darcy Walpole are folded atop a table, notices what she's wearing; a corset and the pants she had stolen from the guard. She cringes when she thinks about who could possibly of been in charge of removing her over clothes. 

* * *

 It doesn't take long, liberating the ship. It late in the day, dark and murky, and the crew aboard are either plastered, exhausted, or asleep. It's an easy take, not the easiest Elizabeth's ever experienced, surprisingly, but there's hardly any hassle. Not until the other prisoners aboard the ship realise she's the one to become their captain. It's a hassle she deals with immediately. Telling them she rescued them, and if she hadn't they'd be dead, either at the bottom of the ocean, or hung in Nassau. She gives them an out, that either they could throw themselves over board or pay their debts. None of them do, and it's when they return to Nassau do they truly respect her. 

Nassau is small, it smells like sweat and piss, and Elizabeth is _glad_ to be back. 

 


End file.
